A Book By Me
by XxFallenAngel428xX
Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Hello. I apologize for the wait, those of you that were aware of my intention to write this. I'm writing this on my iPod. My laptop broke. Sometimes things are just not gravity proof. I hate gravity. And I hate my brainstorming. I've got so many ideas for this, my mind wants to explode. But that would hurt, and I don't have the money to go to the hospital afterwards. Bleh. Well, this is my first multi-chapter high school AU, so wish me luck!**

**Enjoy!**

**Epilogue: The Chapter Where The Narrator is Introduced**

_**~~~\~/~~~**_

"Ugh, Merlin, which color? Sapphire or emerald? My vest is the green, my shirt is the blue, so which tie?" I rambled to my fluffy Australian Mist feline friend on the neatly made bed behind me. His eyes barely opened large enough to dart a look at my black tie across the room. Because the cat can totally understand everything I say. "You're right! Black would through it all together! Thank you, Poppet, I don't know what I'd do without you."

I slid on the tie quickly and grabbed my binder from underneath Merlin. I had only a few minutes left before the bus left, and I had to make sure Alfred didn't miss it again. My black dress pants rushed on as I woke up, only to be slowed down by the tie dilemma , I have to lint roll the entire outfit. I look like a mess. This is not a good thing, as today is the day the principle announces Student Council president.

Not that anyone runs against me.

I've been the Council President since sophomore year. Freshmen year, I was Vice President. I'm doing everything in my power to get into a good college. I have to get to a state of superiority so that I am, without question, Hetalia High School's class of 2015 Valedictorian. That looks mighty attractive on a collage application. It doesn't help any that I also have to work with Alfred's twin, Matthew, to make sure Alfred stays in his AP classes with us. He can't fail any classes, lest he be kicked off of the football team. The strange sport is his only reliable asset for getting into the college of his choice. I prefer the European football, but I, as an Englishman, am also quite biased.

Oh, one more main point before I continue with one of the longest days of my life.

I am gay.

Now, I'm not flaunting double and triple rainbows everywhere and I don't hit on everything that walks like that French Frog, Francis, but I do prefer men over women. I am simply hiding in a large closet. My mother knew, before she died after a long battle with cancer, my father died when I was two, my brothers back in the UK know, and Alfred and Matthew know. My brothers thought it was weird at first but they got over it after a few stern groundings from Mum. However, Alfred accepted it quickly because Matthew is gay, too. They are my friends and family, and they wouldn't be so if they didn't accept a small quirk.

Anyway, allow me to continue with the plot. Then maybe you'll understand how a mostly straight quarterback easily switches teams and risks everything to be allowed to love his best childhood friend. Because, even now, I can't figure it out.

**_~~~?~?~~~_**

**Hey, I'm sorry for the shortness of the chapter. I just think this is sort of a choppy prologue. ^.^; I'll be compensating later with tsundre-ness and epic fluff. But this will be a long ways away. I hope. I'm terrible at plot diagrams. And suspense. And humor.**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Title: A Book By Me**_

_**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**_

_**Pairings so that I don't forget any of this in the future: UsUk, PruAus, GerIta, Spamono, and a few other minor couples. Matthew and Japan may be gay, but as if now, neither have a boyfriend. **_

_**Disclaimer: I forgot to say this last time, so... I OWN NOTHIIIIIING! Now, I'm never obliged to say this again. On this fic. :3**_

_**I am giving a special thanks to yumikinz-sonadowlOve and SophiaLenaDuchannes Riddle for reviewing! (I'll be writing this in every new chapter, skip it if you don't care.)**_

_**Hola~ This is Fallen Angel, reporting for duty! I just have to get to work and to type as fast as possible so that I can get these chapters out as fast as I think them up~ So, I can only ask you to enjoy the first actual chapter of A Book By Me.**_

_**Oh! And warnings for now and future chapters: Sexual tension, sexual frustration, smut (eventually), wet dreams (insertion of smut), and brief home-made fanfiction (insertion of smut), Lovino-level-language (on a scale of one-to-Lovino), and much tsundre-ness. And I won't be writing in the accents. Autocorrect likes to yell at me for that on my iPod. Now, to never write this in another chapter again!**_

**Chapter One: The Chapter Where The Love Interest and Side Characters are Introduced**

**~~~.~.~~~**

"Bye, Merlin, your food's in the bowl by the fridge, as always. Don't over-eat, you'll get a tummy ache!" I threw over my shoulder while I slid a strap from my backpack up my arm. Sometimes, I thought life couldn't get any simpler.

I turned to lock the door behind me, and I heard a loud voice booming from around two houses down. Actually, thinking about it, it was exactly two houses down, as I also heard the familiar heavy, old redwood door slam before I could identify the click of the lock in my door.

I knew what was going to impact my slightly small body if I turned around, this happens every time I'm even a minute late to their home. If I stood still, maybe he would leave. If I didn't say anything he would just put a hand on my shoulder, and I'd pretend to be startled. Again.

"Hey, Artie!"

"UMPH!"

Instead of being predictable, he tackles me into the bush. "Alfred, you fat oaf, get off me!" There goes my wrinkle-less-ness. Which I have now made a word.

I had twisted around to face said beast, pushing vainly on his shoulders to get him to lift his weight off of me. His head was buried in my neck, and his arms around my torso crushed my dwarfed-in-size body to his large, muscular one.

He isn't fat, actually, he just eats like it. Alfred has an incredible tolerance to fatty foods and cholesterol, so he would eat an entire banquet at a wedding and "The Biggest Loser" feast, and not gain an ounce. I, personally, think its just from years of eating hopelessly unhealthy food so much, his body just burns it really quickly. It doesn't help any that the teen is also brimming with energy nonstop.

"Aww, but Artie, you know I'm not faaaaaat~~!" Alfred whined like the child he should still be. "I bench, like, twice your weight, before I even eat, and I sweat away any fat while cramming for random pop quizzes about our AP English class that you and Mattie like to give me!" Alfred declared proudly, lifting his face and holding it inches above mine, his infamous movie star smile crinkling at his eyes.

"Yes, yes, you're not fat. I know. Every guy in school knows that. Both gay and straight. Every time you shed your shirt, even Muslim women in Iran swoon. If they know how.* Now, please get off of me, I have to get this dirt off of my uniform." I was suddenly very aware of our closeness, and I wanted nothing more than to get him off of me.

Our uniform didn't require much, just that the shirt have no tears and a collar. Alfred wore a black long-sleeved button-up, and the sleeves were rolled up to his mid-upper arm. His top few buttons were undone, and his form-fitting white undershirt shown brightly under the sky. He also wore the pair of dark blue jeans I picked out for him on his birthday, ironically July 4th. He told me that I could pick anything out, as long as I liked it, personally, on him. I didn't know anything but his size and that something loose on his legs but tight on his arse would look good, and I grabbed the first pair I saw that seemed to fit what I wanted for him, telling him to try it on. I liked it. A lot.

I noticed something was missing, something signature for my - er, not my, I meant our - American to have on him at all times... "Alfred, where's your jacket?" I asked slowly, not even sure why I picked up on it being missing.

Alfred's bomber jacket was given to him by his mother who got it from her father before she started flying all over the world to stay with her hectic job and provide for a fatherless set of twins.

That was almost five years ago, but she sends postcards, calls, and writes letters constantly. Alfred still loved his mother. Both of the boys did, and still do. She taught Matthew to cook, gave Alfred movies on how to play football and practically became their primary teacher, Matthew being the star student, and public school was just proof that they knew what they where doing.

I've just lived two houses down from them starting after my father's funeral and will-givings-outs-of-stuffs. His huge business went to my brothers, of which, Scott had just graduated business college, and my two other older brothers, William and Daniel, had just graduated high school, both with scholarships to different universities, but majoring in the same field of business. A portion of all of Father's money went to Mum and me, and 30% of all future proceeds went to me and my future. Which is why I can afford living by myself. Well, and Merlin, too.

"Oh, it's at a taylor's, there was a tear in it that I didn't want to get bigger. So, I'll just have to make due with long sleeved shirts that don't attempt to hide my fatty build for a week or two," Al explained, saying that last part with a small nudge as we walked side by side over to the bus stop.

"Oh, stop, Al, you knew I just wanted you off of me. You may not be fat, but compared to me, you weigh a ton," I laughed back, leaning into the nudge comfortably.

I loved mornings like this. The kind where nothing could go wrong, and everything couldn't be calmer.

The wavy-haired blonde standing against the stop sign sighed, looking at us with what looked like confusion.

There were few differences that divided the two brothers: one being that Matthew has more lavender eyes compared to Al's blue raspberry ones. Another would be that Matt is shorter, and he has longer, more wavy hair, plus, Matthew wouldn't be able to talk to anyone on his own; if it weren't for Alfred being so outgoing, Mattie would probably have fewer friends than he does now, if any at all.

"What's with that expression, Matt?" Alfred asked, reaching forward and clapping his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "You look like you don't get a situation or something!"

Mattie opened his mouth in protest, but reconsidered, saying instead "Actually, that's exactly what I was thinking." His soft voice blew around us like a light mist. That's just the way he spoke. His voice was like Alfred's, but much quieter, and very gentle.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. Alfred seemed to reciprocate the emotion in his own facial expressions.

"Nothing!" Matthew waved Alfred off casually, but looked me in the eyes, as if to say 'I'll tell you later. When he's not there.'

I only nodded, quirking my eyebrows to display my more than evident confusion.

"Hey, Artie, are you excited to be Council President again this year?" Alfred asked, looking down at me with a knowing smirk.

"Of course I'm not excited. I have to be the perfect embodiment of calmness. This isn't even a proper question, we both know that!" I exclaimed, looking at him with mock horror.

"I know, I know, it's just funny to see your joking face every year. What will be your first job as prez?" Al asked, clearly finding this hysterical.

"Probably to choose Vice President, but that's not much of a question, either. After that, they'll try to assign me the duties of organizing the winter dance, and after the epic fail of the administration's version of a dance on Halloween, I don't think they'll be willing to try that again any time soon," I explained.

I always made Francis Bonnefoy my Vice President: even if he's the walking definition of 'fucking wanker', he did offer great advice and help when needed. However, should I ever need an altogether replacement, my friend, Elizaveta, automatically gets that responsibility. No one trusts the Frenchman in that position. No one.

The 'tragedy' that occurred a month ago during the dance was more funny than tragic. A few juniors got ahold of some bottle rockets and sent them off in the direction of the homecoming queen and king as they were taking their seats. The queen, the cheerleader's squad captain, was furious, and demanded that the students be suspended. They were only let off with a month-long's worth detention. Even the king, the runner back of the football team, Antonio, thought it was funny. It really was the administration's fault for choosing 'history of the Chinese firework' as a theme. Even if the bottle rockets weren't Chinese.

"Yeah? So what will the theme be this year?" Alfred asked, shrugging the backpack once by Matt's feet up his own arm.

"I haven't the slightest idea. What do you think? And don't say 'Fourth of July in December'."

"Aww~ Well, other than that, I've got nothing. You got anything, Matt?"

"No. Oh, look the bus."

"Ugh, I don't wanna go to school!" Alfred whined loudly between Matt and me. His arms hung over the both of our shoulders, and his 100-volt grin shined upon us both, yet we are immune.

"Al, you're 18, and you need to go to school. We've gone through this every day for years. Now, quit your whining," Matt stated bluntly.

"Wow, Matthew, no matter what, the more he does that, the harsher you are," I said, laughing it off with Alfred.

The bus pulled up with a long screech as always. We boarded it in peace.

Generally.

Alfred got bantered by the girls, which leads to him finding the one of two empty seats and snatching it, me in tow, and Matthew takes the seat next to us. This happens regularly, and this makes the girls determined to occupy every seat and leave none open. But there aren't enough girls.

It's really quite funny to see them all huff in desperation, even if there are other guys on this bus. But, then again, most of them are gay.

In the front, you have Ludwig (an intimidating German; not my type) in the right window seat, previously mentioned Antonio (handsome and way too happy Spaniard; not my type) in the left window seat, Ludwig accompanied by Feliciano (sweet Italian; waaayy too uke, and taken), and Antonio by Lovino (tsundre Italian twin to Feliciano; no way, even if Hell froze over).

More in the back, there's Gilbert ('Prussian' older brother of Ludwig, failed second grade, albino, self-proclaimed 'awesome', and too air headed), who dogs after Roderich (Austrian musician with glasses, best friends with Elizaveta other than I; too posh), and there you also find the one and, thank God, only, Francis (long wavy hair, eyes sickeningly blue, and so fucking pushy, he should have a straight jacket, duct tape, and be castrated to keep him away from the human race, if that doesn't paint the picture, you need help).

We do have a small bus. And whoever else I've missed is a girl on the cheerleading squad without a car or such a minuscule character, it would be a waste of words to place in here.

"Hey, Alfie, wanna sit here today? Please?"

"Nah, thanks, I'm don't wanna leave Arthur here alone~!" Alfred shouts over the back of his seat through the chaotic hubbub behind us.

"Aww~ You're not switching teams on us are you?" the girls joke in unison, sending an uncalled for flutter through my chest.

This never happens on a normal day. This is just the first of may not normal days.

"W-what're you talking about...? I couldn't do that if I tried!" Alfred grins again, but something falters in his expression.

"Hey! Who said I couldn't make you WANT to switch teams?" I shot back playfully, something toying with my stomach.

"Ah, Artie, I knew you'd bend to Jones charm eventually!"

"What? Nooo~~!" I exclaimed, pushing away from Alfred pathetically.

This went on, one way or another, daily for us. Alfred and I were harder to part than the Vargas (Italian brothers) twins. And they broke apart after years of being together, due to a strong German and an overjoyed Spaniard, which is something everyone saw coming, but thought it would happen in senior year, not so quickly in junior.

**_~~~[~]~~~_**

**_Later..._**

**_~~~{~}~~~_**

After my first class, AP Calculus, I have gym. A class much dreaded, and shared with Matthew. We have always shared that class, the only one we have without Al. He has cooking that class, and we have cooking next, him gym. We waited until last minute to get the gym credit, except Alfred. This is just his version of 'study hall'. It gets him out of practice after school, a perk of being a great student and captain of the champion football team.

So, after getting to our instructor and explaining I should go get situated in the Student Council room, I was dismissed, and Matt can get out of any elective, because he's the clubs and activities treasurer, so he and I walked through campus together.

"So, what was that about, this morning?" I began.

"What? Oh, yes, that, I hoped you to forget that," he smiled weakly. "Well, let's face it. You and Alfred are extremely close right?"

"Peaches and creme. Your point?"

"All of the student body knows that you two look great together. Like, TOGETHER-together. I'm just implying that one of you should make a move. But be sly about it, like on the bus during the routine of 'sorry not sitting away from my childhood friend-slash-love', thing."

"H-huh?! How am I supposed to accept that proposal? That's never going to happen, we're just friends, and were going to stay that way. Neither of us have those feelings toward one another."

"Try telling that to sleepy-Alfred-that-huggles-one-of-his-huge-pillows -and-whispers-'Arthur'-repeatedly. I bet he'd be willing to hear."

"Wait - what?"

"You so didn't just hear me say that. Not that Alfred even knows. But still. You and I both know its destined to happen one day," Matthew finished with uncharacteristic confidence. "Now, let's get to the Council room, shall we?"

And I just stood there, gaping like a moron.

Alfred says my name in his sleep.

Everyone at school thinks we should be together.

I'm not sure I'm rejecting this idea.

This is not good.

**_~~~'~'~~~_**

**Or is it? *Dun-Dun-Duuuuunnnn~!***

***: not to offend Muslims anywhere.**

**BTW: I have no idea how high school student councils work in real life, so don't take any of my bull shitted ideas about how it works to heart, because you may be let down. Hell, I'm afraid that I'll be let down.**

**So, yeah. This chapter long enough for you? I hope so; it looks really long on iPod NotePad.**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Huge 'Thank You's to SophiaLenaDuchannesRiddle, yumikinz-sonadowlOve, LalalandMuse (Guest), and mochiusagi for reviewing! I thought they were really motivating!**

**Ahh~ I'll be uploading chapters almost every Wednesday, as long as the next chapter has been mostly written. Well, enjoy!**

**_~~~"~"~~~_**

**_Chapter 2: The Chapter Where The Main Character Contemplates Possible Love Conflict With Some Side Characters_**

**_~~~,,~,,~~~_**

Once we got to the Council room, I took my seat at the head of the "round table", as I've grown to call it, Matthew takes his seat to my right, and I pick up the phone sitting to my right. I typed in the three numbers that send me to the receptionist's desk in the front of the school, and waited for her poisonously fake-sweet voice to pick up.

"Yes?"

"Hullo, Mrs. Walden, it's Arthur Kirkland, would you please give me the extension code for Mr. Francis Bonnefoy's second hour?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Bonnefoy... He has Mr. Vargas's Latin class, so that would be '4-3-1'."

Mr. Vargas is the Vargas twins' grandfather, and his best friend, Mr. Beilschmidt, teaches ancient history and is Gilbert and Ludwig's grandfather as well.

"Alright, great, thank you, goodbye!"

I hung up without waiting for a response. I waited for a moment, then picked up the phone again, typing in the appointed numbers and waiting as it rung.

"Ciao! How may I help you?" A cheery, thick Italian voice echoed through the receiver.

"It's Council President Kirkland. May you please dismiss Mr. Bonnefoy into the Student Council room, please, Mr. Vargas?"

"Si, it will be done as soon as I give him his homework, Mr. Kirkland. May I be sure he does it?"

"If he doesn't, his position on the Council will be revoked indefinitely upon my word."

"Thank you, Arthur. You were a great student in your freshmen year."

"No, thank you for allowing the dimwit to be excused." With that, both receivers clicked to end the call.

Two minutes later, a smug-faced Frenchman walks through the door, and takes his seat to my left.

"Mon Cher, I thank you for getting me out of that treacherous lecture about the 'differences of the Latin and Greek alphabets'; that was such a bore," Francis purred, lowering his eyelids in an attempt to be seductive.

"God, Francis, you know that THING you're doing there does nothing for me, in fact, it looks quite stupid!" I scolded at him, shaking my head.

"Ah, you hurt me so, mon Cheri. Why will you not submit to the loving ways of the French?" Francis drawled dramatically, one hand in the air, the other upon his heart, and his eyes closed, a fake expression of pain displayed on his features.

"You say that every time Matthew and I shoot you down, flat. Now, get over yourself and your fake 'French charm', and give me details about the conspiracy having to do with Alfred and me," I glowered down at him from my seated position.

"Oh, uh, that? Haha, I was unaware you knew of it..."

"I just found out. Through Matthew. Which is humiliating within itself. No offense, Matt."

"None taken."

"Ah, well, a lot of the girls that haven't befallen my tricks and I have come up with the theory that your 'BFF' is gay for you, dearie. With rainbows, 'My Little Ponies', and zombie unicorns."

"Gay for me...? Wait, did you say 'zombie unicorns'?" That struck deeper than the idea that Alfred and I should be together.

"Ja, he did, and it's only because Al is just way too manly to have normal unicorns, and zombie unicorns sound so much more awesome!" And that's when Gilbert, himself, comes waltzing through the door, emitting pride and over-estimating self-confidence. Gilbert is the head of organizing most clubs and activities. How anyone trusts the albino with anything is beyond me.

"And I'm going to assume everyone knows about this but Alfred and me?" I glared at them, my slim arms crossed over my chest.

Matthew shyly raised his hand. "Actually, I may have actually told him about it. Although, he was doing the whispering-in-his-sleep-thing sense sophomore year. Sorry?" He gave a nervous smile and rose his shoulders in helplessness.

"Ok. So I was the only one that didn't know. Great. Don't I feel like a dumbarse. And I still don't know how to deal with the entire situation! Do I tell people it's not going to happen? Because, I assure you, it won't. I don't think it will, at least. This is not the best thing to have swirling around in a person's head, you know!" I griped my forehead between my index finger and thumb.

"Don't worry about this, Eyebrows, we'll set you up with your American buddy in no time!" Gilbert offered with a wide smirk, weight shifted to his right, and his hand on his left hip.

"Oui, we'll have this deal sorted out soon." Francis placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling in spite of my stressed state.

"You guys are no help. I never said I wanted to be set up with Alfred!" I started to raise my voice slightly, but it hitched at the high point of 'with'.

"Ah, yet your voice betrays you, Angleterrer, and I promise, you'll come around to Alfred's love by the time this winter dance is a week away!" Francis offers, not-so-helpfully, drawing very little attention to the fact that said dance was only four weeks away.

"Great, thanks, I WANT to go out with my best friend, and possibly ruin our friendship. THAT'S not soap opera-ish at all," I huffed sarcastically, slouching into my chair.

"Hey, Arthur, don't worry about it. I'm sure it will be fine, Alfred wouldn't let that happen." Matthew, who everyone had forgotten was even there, suddenly spoke up, glancing up from his few papers and catching my eyes.

"You know what? Matthew's right, and I'm going to pretend this whole thing didn't happen, and just continue with life like normal. Whatever that means, anyways," I concluded, meeting the eyes of everyone present, mentally saying 'You might want to forget this as well'.

Even if I already knew none of them would.

**_~~~{~}~~~_**

**To have this chapter written even before I upload the previous one, ohhh it feels good~**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Special thanks to Kittyruvsyou, mochiusagi, and SophiaLenaDuchannesRiddle for reviewing!**

**Hey, there, readers! I've gotta come up with some sort of name for you guys... Suggestions? Anyways, third chapter, about to be served!**

**Stuff your faces!**

**_~~~/~\~~~_**

**_Chapter 3: The Chapter Where More Compelling Evidence Makes the Main Character Very Flustered_**

**_~~~•~•~~~_**

Shortly after that ordeal, the bell rung, dismissing us to our next classes. Matthew is Mrs. Pittman's favorite student. I am exactly the opposite. She doesn't hate me, I just tend to burn everything.

Which includes water. And I didn't think that was possible. But, as it turns out, it is.

And I'm not allowed to take off from this class so soon after escaping gym. In other words, I'm stuck here.

"Alright, today, students, we will be making tacos. With shrimp and a few other things. Arthur, will you come here for a moment?" she asks, her thin eyebrows raised in my general direction.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, standing up from my seat to the right of Matthew. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, would you mind getting the supplies and dicing tomatoes and lettuce?"

"Anything that keeps me from burning the shrimp, ma'am," I said with a smile, nodding. I walked over to the oversized refrigerator, stocked full of every fruit and vegetable one could find in an exotic farmer's market.

I grabbed the freshest head of lettuce and the two best looking tomatoes. I just had to walk back across the square room framed with counters to get to the cutting station, which isn't that bad. However, I had all three of the 'Bad Touch Trio', or Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis, who, when together, absolutely love to cause mayhem and misery to me. Tripping, scaring, and poking me are not things they often hesitated to do. So I intended to avoid them altogether.

The room is almost like a chemistry classroom. The desks had been replaced with the coupling desk stations, and there were ten of them in the room. One that was more in front and facing the rest of the class served as Mrs. Pittman's desk, and the other nine all faced her, every single one occupied, other than my own seat at the moment.

Except, along the counters that framed the room, there were some divider sort of things that kind of created stations. Hence the aforementioned 'cutting station'. And no, it's not a station to go to and cut yourself.

The BBT, as they are often shortened to, also happens to sit right next to the cutting station. Not a route I wanted to take. So I went around, quietly, quickly, and dodging a random foot that inhumanly appeared immediately in front of my own feet.

Just one more day here. Whatever.

After washing my hands, I turned my back to the class, who were enveloped in the lesson about the proper preparations for cooking tacos, Matthew automatically being charged with the more advanced task of handling two servings, one for me.

As I chopped away at the third tomato, the class suddenly silenced. I slowed my chopping, waiting for things to pick back up. When no one even seemed to breathe, I gently placed the knife I had in my hand down. I hesitantly turned around, almost afraid of what I might find.

Boy, did I not expect what I found.

Elizaveta bursted through the door, and with all of the commotion from the students, I hadn't heard a thing.

She's not necessarily a scary or a bad person. Elizaveta is actually quite sweet, with some rather harsh ways of being protective. She is of rather average height, but her stance sort of comes off differently. Almost like she could do Atlas's job with ease. She was raised by men, gruff men. She's Hungarian, and Elizaveta also speaks German fluently. Her darkish-dirty-blond hair flows past her shoulders, and an uncharacteristically delicate pink-purple flower settles into her hair above her ear, as always. Her eyes are also a shiny pale green.

Her eyes scanned for someone; Roderich, having been forced to sit next to Gilbert, rose his hand in desperation. She sent him a 'get over it, you're going to learn to love him' look, and once she saw me in the back, she smiled and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Pittman, the Student Council had a sudden problem pop up, and we need Mr. Kirkland to help us with it. I do hope you'll understand, ma'am," Elizaveta explained, correcting her posture and sweetening her voice in just the right way.

Elizaveta is the council's secretary, and spends every free moment loitering in the council room. This is also her free period and right before this she had her Greek mythology class, and she's practically the assistant, not the teacher, so she may have been able to sneak into the room while I was stressing about the... Oh, no, I'm not going to think about that. That would be the worst possible scenario.

"Alright, this is nothing to beat around a bush about, so, I'm going to be blunt... Alfred's around the corner and thinks you wanted to talk to him." She smiled at me with her hands folded behind her back once we were in the hall.

Heat flooded to my cheeks. "What? Wait, no, I cannot deal with this, I don't want to talk to him! Not that I hate talking to him, I love talking to him, everything flows, and I never have to think because he doesn't judge, but right now? I smell like burnt shrimp and juiced tomatoes!" I couldn't stop my rambling voice from hitching and braking all over the place. I was very nervous, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Yes! I knew it! You soooo love Alfred! He's not around the corner, I was just trying to see what you would do. And I got what I wanted! This is great, I'll get you together, and it'll be awesome!" She started to do some sort of victory dance, and dragged me to the council room.

She's just lucky I left my things there because I knew I wouldn't need anything in cooking class.

"What? No, stop this nonsense, I don't love Alfred! Er, I love him as a friend, and he is very straight, and we, together, are very close friends, but as boyfriends? No. It wouldn't work." I shook my head furiously and dug my feet into the ground.

"And why do you think that?" she threw behind her, trudging along without any thought about my heels in the floor.

"Because it's true, it might ruin his football career, my political career, and our relationship! I would rather risk the world over that!"

"Wow, Arthur, my friend, you are one. Lovesick. Puppy." And she stopped in the middle of the hallway. Two doors away from the council room.

"Why did you stop here..?" I asked warily, quirking my eyebrows, not sure I wanted to know.

"Because you won't be able to walk in a straight line after I show you this, and I want to laugh when you fall on your ass."

"Great. Wait, what are you going to show me?"

"This." Elizaveta produced a folded up rectangle of printed paper, and handed it over with gusto.

I looked at the thing with dread. Taking it, I unfolded it in one fluid motion.

**"A-Al..." Arthur whispers, Alfred working his way up and down Arthur's neck, leaving a light trail of purple bruises.**

**"Yeah?" Alfred purred into a sweet spot on Arthur's neck, sending vibrations straight to the pit of Arthur's stomach.**

**"Ngh... Alfred..." Arthur breaths, bringing Alfred's face back up to his own, kissing his lips softly. He pulled him closer, one hand lost in Alfred's hair, the other pulling Alfred's hips closer to his own. Alfred was beginning to get the idea.**

"W-what is this?" I declared, holding the scrap of paper as far as possible.

"Keep reading! You haven't even gotten to the good part!"

"The 'good part'? Oh god, no, nothing is good about this."

"Just do it!" She shoves the paper back in my face, and there my eyes go, involuntarily reading the words in front of them. Even if they skipped a few paragraphs on accident.

**Shirts long forgotten, pants currently laying a few feet away, all that was separating the two men from each others' growing erections were two pairs of thin boxers.**

**Then they, too, were gone. Two bare, naked men, studying every crevasse and nape and surface of each other, rarely even coming up for air.**

**"Al, give me your hand." Arthur reached for his hand anyways, and Alfred gave it over, watching intently.**

**Arthur took Alfred's index, middle, and ring finger and put them in his mouth.**

**"A-Art, what are..." He shut up when Arthur's eyes met his own, and they conveyed the message. "Oh."**

**Arthur lubricated Alfred's fingers thickly, never braking the gaze they held.**

**Slowly, Arthur took out Alfred's fingers, even if there was a thin trail of saliva still connecting the two. Arthur repositioned himself to have his legs raised and hooked around Alfred's hips. Arthur also aimed Alfred's fingers to be ready at Arthur's entrance.**

**Alfred, taking it from there, only pushed in his single index finger, the warm encasing allowing this to be done quite easily. He gently began pulling his finger in and out. With a small nod from Arthur, Alfred added his middle finger, and began scissoring in every direction. Then, one neatly trimmed nail skims a specific bundle of nerves and a shuddering moan rumbles from deep within Arthur.**

"And, that's enough of that! Did you get the picture?" Elizaveta smiled and took the paper back, folding it up and hiding it once more in her pocket.

I stared with wide eyes at the mildly insane woman in front of me, trying to find support in the air around me without showing any of my inner conflict to her.

"Uh... I-I'm going into the council room... E-excuse me..." I stuttered, wringing my hands. I took a shaky step foreword.

And lost my footing.

The floor fell at me.

"Hahahaha! I can't believe you! Hey, Al, catch him, will you?" Eliza's voice rang through.

What? Al?

The world seemed to slow, and I twisted while I flew to the floor. There Al was, his eyes shining, even as he caught me and put me back on my feet in one fair swoop.

Once time caught up to me, I realized something relatively unexpected.

My hands were on Alfred's chest, and I was panting unsteadily. His hands were firmly gripping my shoulders to keep me from falling again. He only had his undershirt and pants on; his shirt was probably in the locker rooms. Once again, a movie star quality smile shined into my soul. Or, what was left of it.

"Oh, uh, hah, sorry, thanks Al, you should probably go." I stumble over the words. "I, uh, need to speak with Eliza. Privately."

"What? Me? What did I do?" As innocently as possible, she looks from me, to Alfred and back to me, the smallest hint of haughtiness in her eyes.

"Er, are you sure you're alright, Arthur? I can stay for a little while..." Alfred asks, a question clear on his face.

No. I'm not sure if I love my best friend in any other way than as friends, and everyone is trying to convince me that I do. Of course I'm not alright!

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. No go," I ordered, not meeting Alfred's eyes, which I'm sure were laced with hurt.

"Um, ok. Sorry... Bye. I'll see you during lunch," he muttered. Looking down at his feet, Alfred seemed even more like a child than he did when he was overexcited.

"Oh, Alfred, no, I didn't mean... Dammit." He had already turned the corner away from us. "This is your fault." I glared at her.

"I love you to, my gay friend." She bounces with excitement, waiting for my reaction.

"How'd you know..?" I began, crinkling my eyebrows.

"It's not that hard to figure out, especially when you blush really hard. And, stop furrowing those caterpillars, they'll get stuck that way." Elizaveta began to skip over to the council room, laughing away.

**_~~~1~1~~~_**

At lunch, the large cafeteria had modestly sized circular tables, each with four chairs. Each of the tables' surfaces had two colors swirled into each other. One, farther away from the entrance and closer to the lunch serving line and a window, there's a table with a cerulean blue mixed with a bright sea green. This is our normal table.

At said table is where Matthew sat, waiting for someone, either his brother or me. I sat across from him, glancing anxiously around the room, looking for Alfred.

"How you coping with the UsUk thing?" Matt said, folding his hands and resting his chin on them.

"'UsUk'? What's that?" I enticed, not sure I wanted to know.

"It's what the school's nicknamed you two; he's from the United States, you're from the United Kingdom, US-UK, it made sense," he explained, looking pointedly at my now fidgeting hand.

"Oh. Not well. You know, Eliza took me to show me this paper filled with these... atrocities... earlier. It was terrible." And with that, our conversation was cut short from the fact that a certain man sat down between Matthew and I. "Oh, hey, Al, I'm sorry about earlier. You know I was just a little stressed, right? I would never fall like that on a normal day, you know?" Except when taken figuratively, then I happened to have been falling at that time, unless I was already screwed over.

"Yeah, totally, Art, it's long forgotten and forgiven! Just, reach behind you and grab that bread roll, would you?" Alfred said, pointing over my shoulder.

"Sure, one sec." This was also an everyday request.

At this point, things were not going well for me. But the rest of the day flew, and no more salt was rubbed upon fresh scars through the day.

Until we got on the bus. But that's for the next chapter.

_**~~~2~2~~~**_

**Well, during that inking of smut, Fall Out Boy's version of 'What's This?' Was playing, so when it said it said "how queer!" I was like, 'Yes, yes it is!'**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: A Book By Me  
**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Thank You's to Sophia Lena Duchannes Riddle and Lil'MissEya (there's no such thing as a crappy review! Especially if you review four times... 0.o;) for reviewing!**

**For the record, fuck scheduled updates. I am already tired of planning those out. SO, INSTEAD, I'll update whenever I can. ^.^**

**Chapter four coming your way!**

**_~~~3~3~~~_**

**_Chapter 4: The Chapter Where the Saying What Happens On the Bus Stays On the Bus is Invented And Conclusions To Home-Made Fanfiction do Not Always Conclude to What Was Expected_**

**_~~~4~4~~~_**

The rest of the day went smoothly. The only 'bad' thing that went on were the absolutely horrible thoughts that took residence in my head.

All of them had to do with that paper.

What happened next?

What did the fictional Alfred and Arthur mean to each other?

Were they anything at all like real Arthur and real Alfred?

It was not necessarily a pleasant experience.

I had to keep averting my eyes from Alfred, and prevent them from trailing lower when he stood up. And when he walked. And when he sat back down. And while he was still sitting.

Thank God my incredibly unruly hair blocked my eyes from others' view when I looked down at my papers.

Oh, how I continued to long for the end of the day; home, Merlin, and my old and worn copy of the Complete Collection of Sherlock Holmes. But that would have to wait, as the thirty minute bus drive and sitting with the beast himself, were together inevitable. Sometimes I hate this universe and its unfair coincidences.

So, there we sat. Alfred, me, and Matthew, in order from left to right. Matthew kept smirking and sending not-so-subtle message-glances at me while he fought off his unwelcome seat guest.

Not exactly the ideal definition of 'fun'.

And to top it off, Francis was sitting with Matthew. Continuously smirking at me over the blushing man. And laughing his strange French laugh.

God, shoot me now.

Yet, this wish was not granted. Instead, I was awarded awkward conversation with Alfred, of course also initiated by him, and only after a good twenty minutes of our bus ride awkwardly went by.

"So, uh, Arthur, what's up?" Alfred asked, his torso resting on the windowsill behind him in order to face me directly.

"Nothing, Alfred. Why ask?" I lied through gritted teeth.

"Oh, it's nothing, just that when we were oh-so-causally in contact during third hour, you freaked the fuck out and sent me away. What did I do?" Alfred's strong and loud voice rung easily through the bus, silencing all students, including the Prussian.

Which obviously meant that everyone there could hear our conversation.

"You? Do anything? I couldn't be upset with you if I tried. And I have. At this point, it's an issue caused by the students in the student Council, but it does directly correlate with the two of us. And it made me slightly uncomfortable at the moment. But you did NOTHING wrong. I promise," I said as confidently as possible, but knew I failed miserably.

"Oh? It does have something to do with me? I want in!" Alfred perked up, relaxing slightly, pushing his knee barely into mine as a friendly nudge gesture I was used to, and often returned. But, this time, I didn't. Couldn't.

Instead I stiffened even more than I already was, and looked anywhere but at Alfred.

_Goddammit, Alfred! Why do you have to do this to me? Why do you have to be so perfect and make me feel this way?!_

Wait. I **JUST** did **NOT** think perfect. I hope.

"I-I'm sorry, Alfred, I can't really tell you right now..." I uttered pathetically.

We were about a block away from our stop at this point. Thank God.

"What do you mean you 'can't tell me'? We've never kept secrets from each other, Arthur, never. I didn't hesitate to tell you and Mattie that I really wanted to be on the football team, I don't even have to think to tell you that you could win Artist of the Year or the Grammys for singing if you tried, I shouldn't have keep myself from telling you my feelings!" Alfred has his hands gripping my shoulders, forcing me to look right at him, so many burning emotions surging through both pairs of eyes, fighting to be shown to the world. "And, Arthur, neither should you!"

Everyone was staring at us, but I couldn't rip my eyes from the deep sea blue above me.

"I'm... sorry," was all I could muster.

"No, Artie, I'm the one that's sorry for not being able to explain this properly without actions, but our teachers always say 'actions speak louder than words', right?" And as soon as Alfred finished that rhetorical question, he flashed a beautiful, teary-eyed smile.

And kissed me.

And then Francis clapped. And then EVERYONE clapped. Seriously, everyone. We were at the bus stop, so even the the FUCKING bus driver started clapping. However, I'm pretty sure she's somehow related to Elizaveta, so that would explain a little bit.

I ended up wrapping my arms around Alfred's neck during the first lip-to-lip contact thing we did. Alfred broke us apart, huffed a bit, and went in for more. I didn't object. Fuck, I leaned in as he left, I didn't want it to end.

Yet, as the commotion within the bus quieted down, Matthew was urging us to be aware of our surroundings.

So, we split apart, this time, a thin trail of saliva connecting us. When it broke, so did our kiss-induced trances, and Alfred scrambled away, and I hurried in the opposite direction. We got off the bus, all three of us with Matthew in the middle facing different ways and contemplating different end scenarios. Me, I was thinking of how we would live life like that never happened. Alfred, he was thinking of where our first date should be. Matthew, he was trying to figure out a way to keep me from rejecting any possible outcome in which Alfred and I lived happily ever after. But THAT situation was already long gone. For the moment.

But, at that time, I had come to one conclusion about that weird sheet is paper Elizaveta showed me: the fictional Alfred and Arthur finished what they where doing and NEVER spoke of it again. Ever.

Of course, this conclusion was wrong. And so was I for rejecting my feelings so much. What was it I heard Kiki call Lovino for doing the same exact thing right before Feliciano and he started to go out with Ludwig and Antonio? Tsundre, I think... Maybe I'm a 'tsundre', too.

But it took me about three of the most alone weeks I've ever had to realize what I had done to me. And that Alfred wasn't going to give up something that just started. He WASN'T the undefeated captain of the football team for nothing, after all.

**_~~~5~5~~~_**

**Well, how's that for foreshadowing? Er, more like writing out key points of a plot diagram. BUT IT'S HELPFUL. For me, at least. :3**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Thank You's to aquamarinetiger98 (thanks for pointing that out, but I won't be fixing the typo), Kittyruvsyou, Sophia Lena Duchannes Riddle, SilenceOfCrimsonSnow (still not gonna fix the typo, but thanks for pointing it out!), and mochiusagi for reviewing!**

**Oh yeah, and psssstt! Guess what? I'm going to have Frannada. I usually don't care about leaving Francis forever alone, but I hate to be so mean to Canada. He's such a sweet kid, don't you agree?**

**AND I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE MUSIC I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE/USE IN THIS FANFIC. Not going to say that again, either.**

**And around that breaker, there comes Chapter 5!**

**_~~~6~6~~~_**

**_Chapter 5: The Chapter Where the Main Character Indulges a Habit And Possible Antagonists Decide to Try and Help the Main Character But Are Not Listened To_**

**_~~~7~7~~~_**

I still can't believe what happened, and it's been two days! Incredibly long days, mind you, yet two days, nonetheless! I wish I could talk to him, tell him that I'm sorry, that the reasons behind my feelings for the kiss were exactly what I couldn't tell him, but alas, I couldn't work up the courage.

It doesn't help any that he seems completely unaffected by our kiss.

But there are a few different things.

The main difference is that we don't talk. Ever. And during lunch we no longer sit at the same table. When I got there before him on the first day, he walked in, noticed me (barely), and went to sit by the football jocks. On the second day, I was running a little late, a few last minute paperwork things had to be turned in. This gave Alfred the small window of time he needed, so he took his chance and retrieved his place at no-longer-our table. It was a Thursday, so the chess club kids ate with their teacher, meaning their tables were left empty.

I remember. I signed the papers for it.

Anyways, that small variable gave me the ability to sit alone, unbothered by anyone. At least, that's what I hoped.

But, NOOOOO, the BTT HAS to go and butt in. But, strangely enough, their presence wasn't exactly unwanted.

"Ah, Mon Cheri, why must you sit alone, away from your American?" Francis began before sitting down in front of me, dramatically waving his arms around the way only he does. His company simply sat, but either way, they had me surrounded.

"Can't you tell? I'm obviously unwanted there," I grumbled, resting my chin on my palm, fingers curled in to frame my jawline. "I mean, I don't WANT to be wanted there, by them, or anything, but they could at least be a bit more sly about suggesting that."

I glanced over to where Matthew and Alfred sat, and Matthew was actually animatedly talking up a storm. He kept gesturing toward my temporary table and it looked like he was continuously saying 'Arthur', but maybe it was wishful thinking.

"Freund**, the awesome me assures you that they want you to sit there! Look at What's-His-Face! He's trying to explain the way your acting and explaining that its better to continue to go after you!" Gilbert assured, his elbows thumping on the table surface.

"Si, mi Lovi did the same thing! But look at us now! We're together, and couldn't be any more happy!" Antonio echoed, his grin threatening to split his skull in two.

"See?" Francis said, holing his arms out in a gesture to the other two men on either side of him, "These two odd love birds have given into amour, I have, and the Jones' have! Why don't you, my Angleterrer, as well?"

"I don't deserve it! I'm a nobody, whose only good traits are leadership and unusually emerald eyes!" I whined just loud enough for them to hear.

At this point I think they were beginning to give up.

"Hey, sometimes good leadership means nothing if you can't lead yourself out of a bad mess." And with that oddly philosophical sentence from Gilbert, the BTT stood up and walked away, nothing else said or done, not counting the reassuring pat Francis tried to give me that I shook off.

I slammed my head on the table, arms folded around my face, acting as little barriers. I had to hope no one saw me, but this was not my lunch. I felt my breath hitch, and had to cough in to breathe. My shoulders shook and I felt the worst thing possible actually happening: my eyes were moist and I needed out.

Out. Out. _Out._ **Out. _OUT._**

I stood up, my eyes shut tight, and spun on my heels. I dashed from the cafeteria.

I just ran.

I didn't know where until I was already there, a familiar feeling of uncontrolled need to hide welling inside me.

The library.

Ceiling high book shelves, stocked to the brim with the fattest books ever available.

Even a couple copies of the German edition of The Diary Of Anne Frank. I've never been able to read German, but I've read numerous translated versions. And I've read the play. And seen almost all the movies.

But I still prefer Sherlock Holmes. And the BBC television show, Sherlock. And support JohnLock. All the way.

Anyways.

I almost collided with the double doors that lead to the book haven. I wrenched open the door to my right; the damned thing is actually bloody heavy. I huffed and slid through the opening I made. Knowing the exact spot I needed, I nodded to the librarian, who hadn't seen me in here for quite a while.

I autopilot-ed to the back left corner, a few used bean-bag chairs haphazardly strewn around the section of music and poetry analysis. This is the only school in the state with a music and poetry analysis section in their library.

Lucky me.

This also happens to be the only place no one (other than Alfred) can find me, not even Matthew. I always used to come here if I got to pissed at a particular prank the BTT pulled, someone struck a chord when bullying a different student and I overheard a homosexual taunt, or if things just didn't settle right for some other reason. I sort of taught myself to deal and tune out others in the course of my high school career. I was always a fast learner.

I guess that even applies to learning how to sing without ever opening my mouth as well.

This IS a music section.

The books here are about how to hold a note, high or low, or different music cultures around the world. Every so often, a student brings one of those big name music magazines and leaves it in this section. I find that they sometimes have a 'top ten what-you-want' part, in which there are ten new-ish songs from within the last couple months that had been 'selected by viewers'.

I just look at the page after that where the lyrics are located. Then I often find one that peeks my interest.

I copied it down.

Now, to my next location.

The actual music room.

**_~~~8~8~~~_**

Once I get there, I plop down in my spot in the back. I don't have chorus or band or anything, but I did use to come here often, which leads to a person finding a favorite spot. Mine, being in the back, right next to the exit.

So I sit and start humming, trying to catch the tune I want for the song I picked.

**"I try to make it through my life, in my way, there's you**

**I try to make it through these lies, and that's all I do**

**"Just don't deny it**

**Don't try to fight this, and deal with this**

**And that's just part of it.**

**"If you were dead or still alive**

**I don't care, I don't care**

**Just go and leave this all behind,**

**'Cause I swear, (I swear) I don't care**

**"I try to make you see my side,**

**I always try to stay in line**

**But your eyes see right through**

**That's all they do.**

**"I'm getting buried in this place**

**I've got no room, you're in my face.**

**Don't say anything, just go away.**

**"If you were dead or still alive**

**I don't care, I don't care**

**Just go and leave this all behind,**

**'Cause I swear, (I swear) I don't care**

**"Love changing everything, you won't be left for me.**

**Love changing everything, you won't be left for me.**

**"If you were dead or still alive**

**I don't care, I don't care**

**Just go and leave this all behind,**

**'Cause I swear, (I swear) I don't care**

**"If you were dead or still alive**

**I don't care (I don't care), I don't care (I don't care)**

**Just go and leave this all behind,**

**'Cause I swear, (I swear) I don't care**

**"At all."**

About half way through, I realized how this is a much more exaggerated version of what I'm dealing with now and my current denial issues, so my voice cracked a few times. But I also knew there was an one-man audience behind me, and I couldn't stop, unfinished, in front of the only person who knows I like to sing.

"Is that how you really feel, Arthur?"

"No. I would care if you were dead, and would mu-ch rather you alive, how-ever, I don't believe I would be the best dec-ision for you to have. It could ru-in your career," I choke out, dry sobs wracking my shoulders.

"I don't get it, we're best friends. What would be so bad if we were in love?" He had moved to be directly behind me, and somehow I could feel his slouch,-lax-shoulders,-hands-in-his-pockets,-looki ng-off-to-the-far-corner stance. "Why won't you say anything to me?"

"Alfred, I already said-"

"-'it would ruin my career and possibly everything in my future.' Blah, blah, blah. I DON'T CARE. Hah, see what I did there?" Alfred hopped over the metal chair to my right, and plopped down.

"Alfred, you don't get it. We _CAN'T_ be together. It's just not going to bare any fruit." I shook my head, and stared at my hands in my lap.

"Bare fruit? Don't you think I figured that out? Arthur, I don't want children or to be a professional football player, or to live it the most American city ever of New York if it means I can't be with you. I love you, and I've known that I have for a while now. It just taken me a while to decide that I need to confront you about it."

I stood up at this proclamation and faced Alfred head on when I said this:

"Alfred, listen. You'd be a great father, husband, whatever the sodding fuck you want to be, but I wouldn't, and I can't take any options away from you because I want to be selfish. Now, allow me to dwell in the lies I feed myself and hope you live happily without me."

I didn't even get to see his face after that, because my eyes were squeezed shut both to help prevent my tears from spilling over and out of frustration. I dashed out, and left my song notebook on the floor by Alfred's feet, completely oblivious to what that would lead to.

**_One MOTHER FUCKING LONG week later..._**

"A masquerade? What?"

"Oui, mon Cheri, that's what the dance should be!"

"Oh, bloody FUCKING hell."

**_~~~{~}~~~_**

****fruend = friend. German, done by Google Translate. Don't take it to heart.**

**Well, that's the end of this chappie. ^.^**

***cough* song sung by Apocoliptica *cough***

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Thank You's to shinedownlvr4eva, Sophia Lena Duchannes Riddle (that guy was a basketball player not football, this is a DIFFERENT UNIVERSE/TIMELINE, and I've had the 'ruining career' idea in my mind for a while...), MiyatheEarthninja, and mochiusagi for reviewing!**

**Well, I have decided a few things. This fic is awesome, being the first on that list. But the others have to do with the plot, so I can't say JACK SHIT about them. :D**

***RUMBLE RUMBLE* AND HERE ISSSSSSSS CHAPTEEEERRRR 6! *APPLAUSE***

**Lol, jk.**

**_Chapter 6: The Chapter Where The Dance Theme Is Decided And Epic Songfic(s) Galore Chapter Is Only One Or Two Chapters Away_**

_PREVIOUSLY..._

_"A masquerade? What?"_

_"Oui, mon Cheri, that's what the dance should be!"_

_"Oh, bloody FUCKING hell."_

_AND NOW..._

"What is wrong, Angleterrer? It is an easy solution to the slight problem of this upcoming winter dance of ours, yes?" Francis smirked, crossing his arms.

"The PROBLEM is that we won't be sure that everyone who attends is actually a student here!" I whispered angrily at him, trying in vain not to attract attention.

We were in the Student Council room, the only other people were Gilbert and Elizaveta.

"Of course we will! We can have Berwald, you know, the Swede, check all of them before they step inside. That us, if he's willing to part with his Finnish amour." He smirked, finding NOTHING wrong with this at all.

"But no one else will know who's who, and I'll never be able to-" I stopped short, my face slowly reddening.

"Find your cheri Amerique? I am right, yes?" Francis offered as smug as can be. I wish smug was a person so I could strangle them.

"Yes, yes, my 'dear American'. Why don't any of you refer to him by his ACTUAL NAME? He has one of those, you know!" I shot back spitefully.

"Because, Arthur. We may not seem like it, but we really do respect your secrecy." Francis said this with complete seriousness, until he broke into a smile and chuckled out, "Even if we endlessly joke about it!"

"You are such a pain, Bonnefoy." I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair with a huff.

"But you love us!" He chimed.

"I never said that. But as a matter of fact, I hate you all. Except Eliza, Matthew, and he-who-shall-not-be-named." I smirked at my own terrible reference.

"Voldemort?" Gilbert asked while quirking his eyebrows.

"No, you dimwit!" I yelled, took a breath, then continued in a whisper with "Alfred!"

He looked disappointed. "Oh. Not nearly as sinister of awesome as I thought it would be." He then stuck his tongue out exasperatedly, and went back to work.

"Anyways, Francis, how are we to make sure he's going to be there, and how are we going to know who he is?" I questioned, leaning toward him for answers.

"I will take care of that! I have already asked my sweet Matthieu to get Alfred a stand-out suit!"

Francis and Matthew had officially started going out - finally - a few days earlier.

"But standing out is 'in' now. He'll be like a sore thumb surrounded by sore thumbs!"

"That's why I'm telling you the color he's wearing: also why I told Matthew to get this exact suit." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "He's going to be wearing a plain black mask, a black coat, a cerulean shirt, a white bow tie, white slacks and black dress shoes. Commit that to memory, Cheri, because I'm not repeating that again."

"Oh. Um. Alrighty then. That will, in fact, stand out, I do believe," I stammered. I began to imagine him in the described clothes.

Dammit, I need to stop thinking about things like that. They end up going in a terrible direction. Worse than One Direction.

"That's why that's what he's going to wear." Francis turned his nose upward and closed his eyes, an expression of supremacy and self pride evident on his face.

I could feel that my eyes were incredibly wide, and I had to get home soon: this was an optional meeting for Student Council that I didn't even have to go to. I just had to sort those few things out with Francis. "Well," I began and stood up, "I should be going. I still have to find myself a suit, and feed Merlin!" I left without another word.

_**~~~A Few Hours Later~~~**_

"Merlin, can you BELIEVE it? This insanity may actually work! I may not ruin our friendship! Even if its been practically dead for the past few weeks. Don't you love my new suit, though? It's marvelous! It will match his swimmingly! I'm rambling, aren't I? Not that it matters much, you're a cat. I guess it's a good thing I live alone, otherwise I'm sure I'd be looked up by now. I'm sorry, I'll shut up now." I was ranting while pacing back and forth in my room, occasionally glancing at my suit that I had just thrown together that was hanging up in the center part of my closet.

I was right, it matched Alfred's greatly.

The coat was white, the slacks black. My tie was black, the undershirt emerald, same as my eyes. I had white dress shoes. The only thing that didn't match was my mask. Or, rather, my lack of one. I wasn't going to be wearing a mask, and I'll get away with it. I wouldn't be doing any dancing, either.

No, I would be acting as a teacher/chaperone. Until a certain /i/thing/i/ happens and I become the center of attention.

God, am I dreading that more than anything.

I hate attention. Or, at least, overbearing attention.

But, hopefully, the reward will be worth it.

I need to make sure Alfred knows that I love him just as much, if not more, than he loved me.

I need to apologize, to look him in the eye and say "I'm sorry for what I've said, and I really want to be with you, you really have, like, no idea."

Yeah. Just like that.

But I can't, because I'm a pile of chicken shit, so I'm going to sing.

Which may or may not be a good thing.

**_~~~I'mreallyrunningoutofthingstoputhere~~~_**

**Hah, yeah, I get it, I love you guys too. I've tried to write, but I have all these reproducing plot bunnies for Homestuck. I still love this fandom, don't get me wrong, but OHMIGAWD the recent updates! Anyways, yeah, the next chapter or the one after that is going to be the epic confession-through-song thing, and then after /i/that/i/ shall be hot smut. If everything goes according to plan.**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: A Book By Me**

**Summary: I am Student Council President. My best friend, Alfred, is star quarterback and captain of our school's football team. We've known each other for years, and there's no way anything could divide us. Except some unexpected feelings. UsUk. High school AU.**

**Thank You's to Sophia Lena Duchannes Riddle, MiyatheEarthninja, Canadian Hero, and AlfredUSUK for reviewing!**

**Um, please, all of you, do bear with all alterations I may or may not make to lyrics. I do not own them, but I still may change them to allow better situation fit. Thank you! I love you all! Or at least SophiaLena, because I actually know her in person. We recently went to our local mall in Homestuck cosplay because fuck it, why not, with another friend of ours. :3 *insert heart here***

**Soooooo, I've been pretty bad recently about actually getting shit done, but I'm gonna finish this if its the last thing I write. *determined face***

**I find the lack of foul language to be a fucking disappointment, on my part. I didn't want it to be "OHMYGOD, CAN'T I READ A GOD DAMNED SENTENCE WITHOUT SEEING SOMETHING HORRID WRITTEN?" But I wanted it to be there, like a soft reference to the fact that this is NOT for the feint of heart. **

**And, onto your new chapter.**

**_~~~nopestillgotnothinhaha~~~_**

**_Chapter 7: The Chapter Where The Readers Should Open A New Tab To Listen To "Fallin' For You" By Colbie Caillat and Pretend It's Being Sung By A Guy_**

**_~~~Ilikewritingsongficchapters~~~_**

This was it.

I was going on the stage in ten minutes.

I was going to die from embarrassment.

Although that's not what everyone told me. Of course, by everyone, I meant Francis, Elizaveta, and Matthew whenever he could catch a break from making sure Alfred wouldn't bolt.

I didn't believe them, regardless of their encouraging words. Alfred would find me inadequate. He had to. I have ignored him for the last two weeks, adverting eye contact, and outright yelled at him a couple times that he or I would ruin everything. I couldn't risk screwing us into the solid core of the Earth.

But I had finally come up with a song to sing! I just hope I cover it well. It'll end up being my first song originally sung by a girl, and I may not seem like it, but my voice doesn't usually go that high. Not that this song goes very high. I'm not stupid.

I'm going to die, regardless of my performance. It's a default. Not really going to die, but still. I'll be personally shamed into my home, and never, ever leave.

Fuck, I'll even hire someone to bring me my groceries if it means I can stay home. I'll even open up some sort of sun-roof so I can still get my Vitamin D, but I can't say I'll use it too often.

I'm loosing focus again.

Focus, Arthur. _Focus_.

**_Fo-CUSSS_**.

Alright, now to get backstage.

I maneuver around the aimless dancers bobbing around on the supposed dance floor, forcing myself over the faux velvet ropes that barricaded the entrance. Every odd stare I got, I simply looked them in the eye with a straight face, then I smiled really brightly. It was a fake smile, but only those who truly knew me would be able to figure that out.

Which is why I had to hesitate at the sidelines of the stage, once the actually booked band's singer left the stage. This was caused by a /i/certain/i/ American male spotting me from the center of the crowd, and even as he was being bombarded by invitations to dance by men and women alike, he didn't give any of them a second glance as he stuck out his arms to create an actually reasonable gap between people that he could walk through.*

I try to advert my gaze, but his eyes held me there like a vice. They seemed to ask "What the hell are you doing up there? You KNOW you have terrible stage fright!"

So, I try to do what I had done to everyone else: give them a great big smile, and they might not see how screwed up you could be inside about certain things, right?

Well, here's the thing about doing that to your best friend since you can remember, and possibly the love of your life - they know you better than anyone could ever imagine. They can make you feel both insignificant and like the most important thing on the entire planet, if not, all of the universes combined almost simultaneously. They can SEE that something is wrong by the way your shoulders droop even a smidgen, how you hold out your arm when you reach for something, and even how you blink. Yes, something as trivial as blinking can still be a gateway for thoughts and emotions.

And that's why when I opened my eyes from the forced smile, I didn't even have to see his face to know he knew I was lying to myself and possibly others about something. Or that I was hiding something. I saw the drawn in look of his forehead before I knew to look away. I'm off on the right half of the stage, and only Alfred had found my hiding place. People had stopped to stare at him in complete wonder, not understanding both why the music stopped, nor the reason their star student had begun staring at the dark corner. I snapped my head away from them, shove my hands into my pockets and kick at the ground dumbly. I glance through the corner of my eye, see that Alfred is still standing there, staring at me. I look away again and blush, knowing the tips of my ears must be revealing this to anyone who could see me.

Wait a second, why wasn't Alfred wearing a mask?

Francis suddenly appeared in front of me, hold up his hands, and sighs.

"Mon cheri, why haven't you gone out and sung to your lovely amour? I apologize for his lack of mask, he wouldn't wear it. He kept saying 'I have to be able to find Arthur, a mask won't help me!' and tearing the godforsaken thing off. Eventually it broke. But, this is irrelevant, you still need to get you ass out there!" He placed his hands on my shoulders, turned me around, and tried his best to push me out onto the stage.

"B-but, wait, I can't, not yet-!"

And there I was, in front of a lot of my classmates and lower class men. I looked out at them, stood up straight, realigned my tie, strode over to the mic, and blushed profusely as I lowered it to my comfortability.

I opened my mouth,

And closed it.

I cleared my throat.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I saw faceless heads, swimming around in the darkness, laughing at me.

I opened my eyes again, knowing what I saw wasn't real.

I looked down at my feet.

What the HELL do you think you're doing? You need to FUCKING do SOMETHING.

I mentally shook myself and looked up again.

Dammit, Alfred's right there, a twisted mixture of emotions displayed on his face.

I couldn't just break our gaze this time.

I brought my head high, reached behind me for the unused stool originally there for the band's singer, and pulled it close behind me, gently sitting, never blinking in order to keep our eyes together.

I took a deep breath again, and sighed it out. I gave a slightly breathy laugh at myself, closed my eyes, shook my head in exasperation, finally breaking us. I looked up at the ceiling, shook my head again, and waved behind me to get the band's attention and start playing the song I had told them to a couple days beforehand.

I smiled halfheartedly as they started playing softly. I reconnected my gaze with Alfred, took a breath, and held the mic with my left hand, the stand with my right.

_"I don't know, but, I think I may just have_

_Fallen for you, dropped so quickly._

_Maybe I should keep this to myself,_

_Waitin' 'til I know for sure._

_"I am trying not to tell you_

_But I want to_

_I'm scared of what they'll say_

_So I'm hidin what I'm feelin,_

_But I'm tired of holdin this inside my head!_

_"I've been spendin all my time_

_Just thinkin 'bout you_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_"I've had you all my life and now I've noticed it_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you"_

I smiled really wide and stood up, having noticed the fumbling male now standing a little to the right of me. I take his left hand in my right, and place my left elbow on his shoulder in order to point the microphone at my still singing mouth. I step a bit closer and try to do a little 'step foreword, step back' thing while not laughing.

_"As I'm standin here, and you hold my hand_

_Pull me towards you, and we start to dance_

_"All around us,_

_I see no-bo-dy,_

_Here in silence,_

_It's just you and me_

_"I'm trying not to tell you,_

_But I want to_

_And I'm scared of what they'll say,_

_So I'm hiding what I'm feeling_

_But I'm tired of holding this inside my head_

_"I've been spending all my time_

_Just thinking about you_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_"I've had you all my life and now I've noticed it_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_I've fallen for you._

_"Oh, I just can't take it,_

_My heart is racing,_

_Emotions keep spinning out._

_"I've been spending all my time_

_Just thinking about you_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_"I've had you all my life and now I've noticed it_

_I don't know what to do_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_I've fallen for you_

_"I think I've fallen for you._

_"I can't stop thinking about it_

_I want you all around me_

_And now I just can't hide it_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_"I can't stop thinking about it_

_I want you all around me_

_And now I just can't hide it_

_I think I've fallen for you_

_I've fallen for you_

_"Oh,_

_Oh, no, no_

_Oh,_

_"Oh, I've fallen for you."_

I open my eyes when I realize I closed them as I sing the last line, having stopped 'dancing' with Alfred. I notice that everyone below has huge smiles on their faces. I look up at Alfred and I can see through his blushing face that he has one of his perfect grins at the ready.

I smile softly at him and bury my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Artie, dude, I told you that you could sing!" Alfred boomed, looking down at my head and placing his hands delicately on my waist.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I believe you," I said back, turning my head to look him in the eyes. They were so filled with happiness and love, I felt so dumb as to not realize our feelings sooner.

He just scoffed and patted my head, reaching up with his other hand to take one of mine from his neck. "Ladies and gentlemen, Arthur Kirkland!" he shouted at the crowd, which replied with roaring applause.

I covered my flushed face with my free hand, laughing. "Haha, guys, stop, I wasn't that good!" I tried to deter them, but my voice didn't carry like Alfred's. It dawned on me why it didn't carry: I no longer had the mic. I turned toward Alfred and leaned up to his ear. "Wait, where's the mic?"

He paused and looked around, his eyes eventually stopping at the dropped microphone where we were standing moments before. He pointed to it, but I was already kneeling to get it.

I held it up to my face, again. "Alright guys, was I really that good?" They all cheered in unison, I assume, in agreement. I smiled and blushed lightly, glancing over at Alfred, who stood beside me. He seemed to be waiting to catch my reaction to the students' own, and when our eyes met, he smiled again and took my hand.

It was warm and calloused, like a worn leather coat. His fingers laced between my own, and squeezed reassuringly. I leaned off to the side and put the mic back onto the stand. I pulled Alfred close and placed my hand on his shoulder.

My chest had been so tight, looking into his oceanic eyes, I could've suffocated right then and there.

I took as deep a breath I could, smiled, closed my eyes, and brought our lips together.

Alfred turned his head and let go of my hand in favor of holding the back of my head and threading through my hair. His other hand placed on the small of my back, both of my arms wrapped around his neck.

The tightness in my chest only increased as we parted, both slightly out of breath. Our eyes were half-lidded, and we still held a strong gaze.

His eyes were always so easy to read, but at this moment, they held so much emotion I could only identify a couple: love and happiness. I knew that was exactly what shown in my own eyes as well.

"Ah, Mon Cheri, you have finally spread the amour!" Francis. Of course.

I dropped my hands and stepped away from Alfred, feeling even the tips of my ears heat up. "Yes, bloody FROG, I confessed. Now, if you'll excuse us, it's rather late, and I would prefer for the two of us to be in my own home than share one with you and Mattie, even if we CAN STILL HEAR YOU TWO," I snarled, taking Alfred's hand again and saying to him, "C'mon, let's go. I forgot to feed Merlin before I left, too."

Alfred just put on his dopiest smile before sweeping me up, bridal style.

"Ok, Artie, but only if you let me carry you!"

"Well, at this point, I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" I asked sarcastically, squirming a little to make myself comfortable.

Alfred smiled, kissed my forehead, and started walking down to the exit, where all of the students had created a path for us to walk down.

Like in an incredibly lame teen drama. "High School Queericle: the even GAYER and X-rated version of High School Musical!"

I'm so not funny.

But, whatever.

I don't have to be. I'm the author!

**_~~~hahaonlyonemorechapterbitcheswhatnow~~~_**

***: incredibly long sentence is long and kinda boring. Sorry. But this chapter has a SHIT TON of those.**

**Soooo, as it turns out, NEXT CHAPTER IS THE SMUTTY-LEMONY GOODNESS. And apparently, 'smutty' is actually in the Apple product dictionary. WTF? 0-o;**

**Well, see you guys next chapter, I guess.**

**Reviews and favorites always liked and enjoyed!**


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